Schism
by Kilonji
Summary: Against the backdrop of a civil war brewing in Soul Society, Sado Yasutora finds his place.
1. I Love You, Goodbye

**A/N**: A while back, I said there was a whale wandering in the back of my head. Who would have thought Sado Yasutora would be riding it?

Special thanks to IVIaedhros for reminding me how much I love Chad.

* * *

She is taller than he remembers her. Her manner of dress, simple yet comely—to him—is a far cry from the top and shorts she sported when he first remembers her. Of course, in his earliest memories, she is an eleven year old girl.

Her hair is longer and there is a distinguished swath of gray caressing her cheek. Her frown is adorable. Why is she frowning? He does not know. He only knows that he could stand and watch her all day long, with that scowl and in that skirt that exposes a toned, slender calf. As she moves in her crisp pace toward the house he follows, all the way up to the door before she closes it in his face.

Sado Yasutora stands at the closed door, his surprise melting in to hurt, curiosity, then realization. She closed the door on him. Not because she was angry, which had been the case each of the last dozen times she'd done it. She had no idea he was there. Or, even with her sensory abilities, willed him _not_ to be there. Because it would mean he is really gone and their life together, which had spanned the better part of fifty years, is over.

And it is over.

As Sado sinks to the concrete steps, it all flows back into him. He forgets every day. How many days has it been? He does not know. He understands that there was snow, wafting to the ground in wide, cotton-like flakes. He remembers it was dark. And he was laying down. He can almost feel the IV embedded in his left arm. But when he brings his wrist to his face, there is only the trace of it, already fading. He shakes himself and returns to that sterile, enclosed place, where his wife has her hand on his brow, smoothing his thinning hair and saying things, soft things in a voice barely a whisper. "I love you. Goodbye." He takes a deep breath, rises, and begins to pace. This is how it is. How can it be? How can he be leaving her when he only just found her? How can half a century be reduced to something that barely lasted the blink of an eye?

But the trees are just beginning to bud. Spring has returned and he's here to see it, just not the way he wanted to. He had wanted to go back to Mexico with his wife. He had wanted to do so many things. Things he'll never be able to do now. Never again. Never.

He feels himself being pulled, a sensation he has fought on a nightly basis for the better part of three months. He looks down at the chain on his chest, notes that there are less than three links left. He hasn't much time. Why has he held on for this long? Oh. For the sake of the woman who just shut the door in his face. He sits back down and resists the urge to put his face into his hands and weep.

"So you know now, don't you."

It was not a question. Sado looks up into the shiny young face of his brother-in-law. Shockingly orange hair and a scowl that has been plastered on his face for what feels like centuries. "Chad, you have to let go. It'll be too late and I don't want to force you, but I will."

Sado blinks very slowly, drawing in a deep breath. "Is that a threat?" he asks quietly.

"No," Ichigo says. "Can't you tell I'm begging?"

"For whose sake?" Old habits die hard and Sado knows his best friend better than anyone. It must have taken considerable restraint for Ichigo to have waited so long for his buddy. For as long as he has known him, Sado has been aware of how possessive Ichigo can be. But the answer Ichigo gives surprises him.

"For yours," the shinigami says. "I will never allow you to become a hollow."

"You know what I am. What will you do when Sereitei says I am too much like a hollow as it is and will not let me in?"

Ichigo grits his teeth. "I'll deal with it. And when Karin comes, you'll be there to greet her."

Sado gazes at him, feels his eyes narrow as they examine the young, exuberant face that is still so familiar. He believes his words. Believes.

Sado remembers that he has walked many miles and fought many battles with only his belief in Ichigo to sustain him. He has trusted him this long. A little farther is really nothing, nothing at all. Even as he feels the tingling of the character on his forehead and the world falls away, he looks back at the closed door. Just a little farther, just a little longer. He chooses to have faith. _We'll see each other __again._

* * *

**P.S.: **There's more to this than meets the eye at first glance, I promise you. To be continued. . .


	2. Into the Wild

Sado has only heard Central 46 mentioned—not discussed, only mentioned—as an afterthought. Aizen's afterthought, condensed and minimized to an ineffective cavern filled with blood and death. Sado has no idea how it works, who or what Sereitei has filled it with, or even if it still exists when the doors open and he walks slowly behind his orange-haired friend into Soul Society. He knows only that if it does, his stay may be very short.

Ichigo walks tall and speaks but little—he never liked having his conversations interrupted and is prepared to be questioned. So when one of the guards posted at the gate steps forward, the captain winks at his friend and puts on an expression of bemused irritation. "What is the problem?"

The other guard places himself between Sado and the entrance. "Sado Yasutora, correct?"

"This is my friend," Ichigo states.

"Sado Yasutora?" The second guard, nearly as tall as Sado and a good deal broader, ignores the captain pointedly. "Sado-san, there have been arrangements. Ise-fukutaichou is waiting to accompany you to the Eighth Division compound."

As if on cue, she materializes. "Sado-kun," she says, adjusting her arm to straighten the book under it, "If you will?" She gestures with her free hand.

Sado glances at Ichigo, whose face is blooming into a grin. "I should have known. Nanao, what does he want?"

Nanao sniffs. "He wishes to speak with Sado-kun before he is processed. _Alone_."

Again, Sado looks at Ichigo, whose grin has disintegrated. "Don't tell me he's pulling rank."

"I don't know what you mean, Kurosaki-taichou," Nanao replies. "Kyouraku-taichou has always felt an affinity for Sado-kun and wishes to greet him."

"He has all the time in the world for that."

"I am inclined to agree with you. However, Kyouraku-taichou can be impatient. He says that he has waited long enough to have sake with Sado-kun and not even you can deter him. We'll see to it Sado-kun is delivered to the the Fifth Division compound when Kyouraku-taichou is satisfied."

Ichigo rocks back on his heels. "Chad, do you want to go?"

Sado smiles, even if the slightly crumpled expression wrenches his heart. It's too much like the face—the body, the smile—he has left behind. Looking at his brother-in-law is painful; the prospect of being in close quarters with him is not as comforting to Sado as Ichigo would like to believe. But Sado cannot say this. Not to Ichigo, not to anyone. He suspects Kyouraku-taichou, being the intuitive person he is, has considered this. Maybe he's been thinking on this day for decades. He'll have to thank him for the respite.

"Fine," Ichigo throws back at him as he walks away. "Just don't come to my door with alcohol poisoning."

"He's grown up some, that Kurosaki," Nanao says later, coolly. "He's finally learned to pick his battles. Not too long ago he might have put up a fight."

"Maybe," Sado nods. "I'll talk to him later. But Ise-san. . .Why does Kyouraku-taichou really want to see me?"

Nanao sighs a little. "He hasn't told me much of anything. You'll have to pardon him. He's not been. . . himself since Ukitake-taichou left us. Lonely, maybe. Although I suspect he's put some thought into securing you before you could be added to Kurosaki's fold."

"Ise-san, I'm not a sheep." Sado stops. Is that irritation buzzing under his skull? Is this not what he has feared all this time? Being examined, sorted, and filed away against his wishes? Even in those hoyden, chaotic days when he followed Ichigo to heaven and hell and back, it had always been his choice. He controlled his destiny. He lived his life the best way he could, the only way he knew how. And he had been happy. But at the back of his mind there had always been that dark space that represented a future he could not predict—no, he could predict it. What he knew of Sereitei, though little, spoke volumes to his fear: That he would not be able to follow Ichigo into Soul Society. When he said goodbye to his wife and children, it would be for good. Even here now, standing still and waiting for the cool and collected Eighth division vice captain to face him, his fear has not subsided. He cannot stay here. It is not his choice to make. There is no place for a hollow here. "Ise-san," he says.

Nanao stops, but does not turn. Her words are calm but somehow pained. "Kyouraku-taichou has been concerned with those arms of yours as well." Sado examines her back, and how her hands are balled into fists at her sides. Why would this affect her so? "We have known for some time that there may be no place for you in Sereitei. But Kyouraku-taichou chose to bypass the standard protocol in order to spare you any public exposure. This much I know. What he wishes to discuss with you is between you and him." When she starts forward, her steps are quick and hard.

He wants to grab her hand. There is something she is not saying. But he knows better. He maintains his stride behind her the rest of the way to the eighth division, right into Kyouraku's unkempt but homey office.

Where Kyouraku is already a little tipsy, according to the disgusted Nanao—a feat that has taken the help of more than a dozen bottles of sake. He has them stacked into a short glass wall. Apparently he's been waiting for longer than he thought he would, and when Sado steps foot inside the sliding door, Kyouraku knocks his masterpiece over to launch himself at the man.

But when Sado leans close to tap his shoulder, he cannot smell any alcohol. "Please sit," Kyouraku says. "You should be a little tired by now, no?"

Sado is not tired. But if that is what Kyouraku wants to believe, then so be it. He settles with this long legs crossed on a massive cushion that could only have been placed there for him. Kyouraku settles back down, across from him. The bottles are spread between them like a galaxy of earthen stars.

"I had to keep up appearances, you understand," Shunsui says, gesturing at the bottles. "Nanao-chan is so used to seeing me inebriated, it would only worry her if she thought I had gone sober."

"Has it been lonely for you lately?"

Shunsui rubs the back of his neck, grimacing. "Times like these make me extremely grateful my love for Juu-chan is platonic. I've imagined hearing from him from time to time. He's always chiding that for such a jovial person, I have few close friends. Which is true. But the rest of them together could never be as close to me as he was. It was a thousand years of fighting and drinking and trading hospital beds. It would take some time to have something like that again." He pauses, a faint smile coming onto his face. "I imagine Kurosaki has been looking forward to such a glorious future as that with you and all his little comrades at his side."

Sado smiles back at him. "I think he has. But he's earned it, hasn't he?"

"So he has. It still makes me sad."

"Because he'll be disappointed?"

"He may." Shunsui sighs. "I'm going to ask you something. You need not answer if you are not comfortable. Have you ever once attempted to summon a zanpaktou?"

Sado nods, just a little. It is not to tell Shunsui yes. It is to confirm to the captain that his suspicions are correct. Shunsui rakes a hand through his wavy dark hair. "Sado-kun. You don't think you can, do you."

"I have never believed myself capable of it. The arms have spirit, but not one that takes a form or speaks to me. To this day I believe I am stronger in Hueco Mundo. If that makes me some sort of badly-formed hollow—"

"No, Yasutora. You are not a hollow. You may have those elements, but if you were, you would have no control over any of your actions and a sizable hole in your chest. So what remains here is for you to decide what you want to do about that. There has never been a shinigami without a zanpaktou. I am prepared to put all of my energy into convincing Central 46 to make an exception. It will not be easy and if I am unsuccessful, Central 46 may exercise its right to demand a full demonstration and perhaps even a diagnosis of your skills, to be completed by Kurotsuchi Mayuri. But I believe this is a cause worth fighting for."

Sado blinks. "Kyouraku-san—will Ichigo be implicated in this as well?"

Shunsui scratches his beard. "Possibly. He'll most likely insist on being involved."

"Will it affect his position?"

"It is possible," Shunsui says with a grimace. "But I am certain this is a risk that he of all people will be willing to accept."

Sado examines his hands, frowning.

"Listen to this." Shunsui rises and walks the three short steps to his desk. It is cluttered with papers, an inkwell and an old-fashioned brush and blotter. Shunsui lifts a beautifully sculpted banzai tree and lifts the paper beneath it. "_A remarkably dogged, determined, and powerful fighter, Sado Yasutora, fell to my sword today. It is the first time in a hundred years I have been both moved and impressed by an opponent. He is yet young but has a gravity one seldom notes in men ten times his age. I hope to see him again, to speak with him as a friend_." Shunsui beamed at him over the aged paper. "The last time someone both moved and impressed me, it was Ukitake Juushirou."

"You are too generous to me," Sado says, shaking his head. "But I am honored. Thank you for your kindness, Kyouraku-san."

"I believe it would be a terrible loss to send you to Rukongai," Shunsui says quietly. "I believe you have earned your place here. I am sorry I cannot tell you this will be the general consensus among Central 46. But I also know that you will do what good you can wherever you are. I cannot force you to stay."

"Are you saying the choice is mine?"

"It has always been."

Sado takes a breath. He feels the weight slowly lifting, can feel the air fresh and new around him. The choice is his. He knows without considering it, knows what must be. And is content with it. "Thank you, Kyouraku-san."

"Never Kyouraku-taichou?" Shunsui will not hide his disappointment. "I'll commiserate with Kurosaki, then."

Later that night, as the denizens of the fifth division prepare for bed, a messenger arrives at the compound gate with a message for their captain. _I cannot stay. I will contact you when I get settled. Do not worry and do not tell Karin. Give Rukia-san and Renji-kun my greetings. _ Ichigo frowns and clenches his fists. "I should have known," he growls. He can see the shaggy brown head of the Eighth division captain coming up the lane and it's instantly clear why Shunsui neglected to pass on the message himself. Under his arm flashes a sake bottle. The Fifth division captain shakes his head and prepares to greet his comrade. Tonight they'll drink together to drown their sorrows. They may even spill into one of the Rukongai bars after recruiting a few buddies. Then they'll have a toast to good friends who cannot be with them, each cursing and wishing Sado Yasutora well in the same breath.

The same Sado Yasutora who is passing into the sixtieth district as the sun comes up. He looks forward and smiles a little. There has been no confrontation, no reputations put at risk. His friends will go on without him for a while, and he will move forward without them. The path ahead of him is open, clear, and of his own making. He knows someday he'll return to Sereitei's gates. Until then, he is free to wander. _I'll do some good_, he thinks.


End file.
